We keep our fine wines in old boots

Avert your eyes, epilepsy sufferers, as the Flash animations load, but stay on for the fucked goodies on the Bohórquez family estates, “where the brave bull wanders”, “the horse gallops to his whim”, and everybody else simply skips to their Lou as the sun withdraws discretely behind the “intricate skirted passages of ever bloomed plant pots” and the water, “always omnipresent[,] confer[s] this garden full with mystery the spirit and beauty of the Moorish Andalusia.”

Over at the bullring, we find Elvira Madigan, which is to say a cheesy flamenco take on the slow movement of Mozart’s Piano Concerto No. 21 in C major, K467. Do not mock: “Elvira Madigan (December 4, 1867 – July 20, 1889) was a Danish tightrope walker and trick rider, whose illicit affair and dramatic death at the hands of her lover were the subject of a famous Swedish film from 1967″. So she would have certainly felt at home in this home of sport-lovers, “where bull and horse run even to a singular architecture without paragon in any other part of the world, unalterable to the passing of time.” That Fermín Bohórquez has “a mount capable of dancing with a pretty Andalusian woman” does not mean that he would object to it dancing with a dazzling Dane, even if over at Activities she might regretfully have been informed that rejoneo is for gentlemen only.

So all well and fuckèd–even Scheherazade might have blanched at the howlers committed here–but just don’t drink any of their produce: “Old oak boots keep a treasure, the Sherry wine that the Bohórquez Family raises and keeps with zeal for the great occasions.”

Due to this blogger’s inefficiency we’re now a fortnight away from December 1st, World AIDS Day. But if you want to help children in southern Africa who have been orphaned or made vulnerable by HIV/AIDS, then you can donate to Starfish Greathearts Foundation at any time. Like now, for example. Think of it as an early Christmas present.

I rather liked the translation of the Swedish ballad in Wikipedia:

Unhappy things still happen.
Even in our time,
Saddest of all is this
What happened to Elvira Madigan.

Lovely was she as an angel:
Eyes of blue and cheeks of red,
Waist as slender as a flower;
But she got a cruelly dead.

What an bad girl she must have been, to run away Lieutenant Count Bengt Edvard Sixten Sparre, who was married:

But, you see, their cash ran out,
Nought to live on!
To avoid poverty’s fate
Home they built inside a grave.


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This post pre-dates my organ-grinding days, and may be imported from elsewhere.

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Föcked Translation (413): I posted to a light-hearted blog called Fucked Translation over on Blogger from 2007 to 2016, when I was often in Barcelona. Its original subtitle was "What happens when Spanish institutions and businesses give translation contracts to relatives or to some guy in a bar who once went to London and only charges 0.05€/word." I never actually did much Spanish-English translation (most of my work is from Dutch, French and German) but I was intrigued and amused by the hubristic Spanish belief, then common, that nepotism and quality went hand in hand, and by the nemeses that inevitably followed.

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